


once more, with feeling.

by sodas



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodas/pseuds/sodas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Music,” Kaworu says, “or rather, harmony, is something the soul will always remember. Your spirit may be comforted by reconnecting with something in which it once found joy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	once more, with feeling.

"How can I do this," Shinji gasps, with the heels of his palms pressed harsh against his eyes— "How can I? Everyone talks like they're counting on me, but I can't do it. They must have realized by now that there's no reason to believe in me—"

Kaworu takes Shinji's hands away from his face, and folds them, and touches his sore eyelids. "I believe in you," Kaworu says, "and I always have."

"Ka—" Shinji grasps at Kaworu's wrists, tight and clawing, as though he's about to be torn away. His lungs are playing tricks; he wishes that this pale boy was oxygen. "Kaworu-kun—"

"And I always will," Kaworu says.

—

"You should give it a try." The words are encouraging, but the way Kaworu's fingers splay casually over the keys to some tune only serves to intimidate. "You're quite musically inclined."

"Oh, no, I'm - " Shinji waves his hands a little while he stares at Kaworu's. "I'm not really... I played a little when I was younger, but that was so long ago, and I... I gave up."

For a few moments, Kaworu hums along with what he plays, tilting his face back like a sunflower. His eyes are closed, but when he opens them, they're right on Shinji. He's got such mellow irises that, ruddy as they are, they seem to Shinji like quiet blue lakes. "Music," Kaworu says, "or rather, harmony, is something the soul will always remember. Your spirit may be comforted by reconnecting with something in which it once found joy."

"I don't know," Shinji demurs.

"I do," Kaworu says, and smiles.

In the end, Shinji comes to sit with him, and they play a song. Shinji feels like his hands are made of all thumbs, and every time he flicks his wrists, it's haphazard, but Kaworu seems so rapt that Shinji's face grows warm. They play until Shinji thinks he's getting the hang of it, and he catches himself laughing. It's amazing. Kaworu is amazing.

"Thank you," Shinji says suddenly, and Kaworu looks up at him. "For this... And for listening to me, the other day." The face Kaworu's making looks something like adoration, and Shinji's stomach turns; he has to look away before he can finish speaking. "I've been really unsure of myself lately... I've been unsure of _everything._ But you've been really good to me, Kaworu-kun. I know it must be troublesome, to keep telling you all of my problems like this, but - thank you. It helps."

"That's what I'd hoped to hear," Kaworu says. Shinji finds that he believes him.

Their proximity makes Shinji sweat. His head is cottony, too, and he fears his tongue will leave him. Kaworu is so strange, and he looks unrealistic, made all of greys and the whites of his eyes and teeth and skin— and, of course, red. The red has such familiarity. At another time, Shinji knew two red eyes set in such a white face that were just as soft, if not nearly so open, and their closeness had made Shinji feel good. _But he doesn't smell like Ayanami at all,_ Shinji thinks, distracted, and suddenly his cheeks go dark. _What an awful thought..._

Still, Kaworu's scent _is_ his own. For Shinji, it calls to mind a greenhouse: reminiscent of earth, and with the barest bones of containment and sterility. He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep there, in that quiet place. No, that's wrong. _Kaworu-kun's smell isn't a place. You're being ridiculous._ His fingers curl anxiously over his knees, away from the piano. "You always... You always know just what to say, Kaworu-kun," comes his trembly praise. The proclomation feels late. Shinji's been sitting there too quietly with wide eyes and stiff hands and strange notions, and now he's uncomfortably aware that he's being stared at, that Kaworu is watching him and the spread of his blush. "I don't know how you do it."

"Well," Kaworu starts, and spreads his hands to touch some ivory. "I like to say it."

"Say it?" They're both watching each other's hands.

"The thing you need to hear," says Kaworu. He plays four middle notes. "It's because I've been thinking of you for so long. So long, Shinji-kun."

Before Kaworu is killed, he thinks, _Next time I'll learn the cello. Shinji-kun will like that._


End file.
